My Fight

By
More by this author
This war is endless—
just like this endless line of innocent people,
drafted to fight for something our country doesn’t want.

Endless, like the mud I march through
endless, like this thick green jungle
endless like the death count.

We are fighting for nothing;
we are dying for nothing.

Nothing, like what we are doing in this country;
nothing, like what has come out of this.

All that’s left is a pot of death and destruction,
a pot of agony and despair.

I fight for nothing but my own life.
I don’t fight for them.
I fight
to live.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback